


Warmth and Secrets

by we_all_fall



Series: Falling Stars [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sam Winchester, Cutting, Friendship, Gen, Ice Skating, Kid Fic, Kid Sam Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, canon-typical self-hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_all_fall/pseuds/we_all_fall
Summary: Michael promised to take Sam ice skating. It was wonderful until a secret got in the way.
Relationships: Michael & Sam Winchester
Series: Falling Stars [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1196269
Kudos: 42





	Warmth and Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: contains multiple mentions of cutting, and Sam glorifies cutting in his mind.

It was a brown Christmas. It was South Carolina, so no surprise there, not really. And it wasn’t like Sam cared that there was no snow. He hated Christmas and everything that it represented. The stupid family holiday could go rot for all he cared. He wished Christmas had never been invented. 

All those happy families… 

All Sam had was an absent father, a mother who’d been dead so long he couldn’t remember her, and memories of a dead brother to torment him. He missed Dean so much. Sam’s throat got clogged up just thinking about him, but there weren’t any tears. There hadn’t been so many tears since he’d started cutting. 

Cutting made him feel better. It made everything better. The pain, the sting- it was life. Peace. No more pain. It had to be the closest thing to heaven Sam had felt since Dean died. 

But the marks left on his arm just made him feel emptier than normal. He felt like a freak. Why cut himself? What was wrong with him? Was he somehow a monster? He didn’t want to be a monster. 

The harsh cloth of his shirtsleeves made the cuts sting nastily, but he didn’t want to be able to see them. He felt so awful. What was wrong with him?! Was he cursed? What had he done to- to deserve all this? 

Sam’s eyes burned painfully, but there were still no tears. Maybe he’d used up his quota. 

There was a knock at the door of the motel room. 

Sam looked up slowly, confused. He wasn’t sure who it could be, unless- John had promised to be back for Christmas, Sam just hadn’t believed him. Could it be John at the door? Sam got up hopefully and opened it. 

An older boy stood there. There was something familiar about the glint in his eyes and the way he held himself, but Sam didn’t recognise him. Sam just stared up at the boy silently. He’d started talking again about a month ago, but it still didn’t always feel natural and he preferred not to talk sometimes. 

The other boy had no qualms about talking. “Hi, Sammy! Great to see you.” 

“Do I know you?” Sam didn’t quite whisper the words, but it was close. 

The boy pouted. “You don’t recognise me?” 

Sam’s forehead creased as he tried to think of where he might know this kid from. “I’m sorry?” 

The boy suddenly had a shit eating grin on his face. “Yeah, didn’t think you would. I got a new body. What’cha think?” He spun in a circle like he was showing off a new outfit. 

Sam blinked while his brain worked. “Michael?” 

“Yup.” 

“You possess people?” Sam asked worriedly, taking a step back. The only creatures he knew of who possessed humans were demons and ghosts, both of which were always dangerous. He sort of didn’t think Michael would hurt him, but… 

“I only possess people with consent,” Michael clarified. 

“Huh?” Sam really didn’t get how that could work. 

“I appeared in this boy’s dreams and asked if I could borrow his body for a couple hours. He said yes, so I took him over and now I’m here.” 

This wasn’t processing correctly for Sam. “Why would anybody agree to be  _ possessed _ ?” 

“I told you my species has a reputation,” Michael told him. 

“That’s not very helpful since you won’t tell me your species,” Sam complained, nervously running a hand through his hair. 

“Good point,” Michael said, “You’ll just have to have faith.” He grinned like some joke had gone over Sam’s head. 

Sam scowled at him. “I’d rather have  _ information _ , thank you very much.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

Michael laughed. 

“Do you think everything’s funny?” Sam complained. 

Michael shrugged. “Coping mechanism? It’s better than what you’ve been doing.” His eyes lowered to scan Sam’s arms, and his face darkened. 

Sam took a step back, shivering and letting his arms fall to his sides. 

Michael took Sam’s hand and pulled the sleeve up to reveal a series of bloody horizontal lines cut into the skin. His face didn’t give away what he thought about them. 

Sam tried to pull his arm back, but Michael didn’t let go. Tears pricked Sam’s eyes, and he felt terribly ashamed all of a sudden. “Don’t look at it,” he whined. 

Michael ignored him. His finger traced along the freshest cut, making it sting. “Why?” he asked finally. 

“Why  _ not!? _ ” Sam snapped. He looked away. “It’s not like anybody cares, anyway.” 

“Does it make you feel better?” Michael inquired, head tipped slightly to the side. 

Sam bit his lip. “I guess.” His voice was small. 

“It’ll hurt you in the long run.” 

“C-can we talk about something else?” Sam tried not to sound like he was about to cry. He was seven. Seven-year-olds don’t cry. John said so. 

“Sure,” Michael said, “You wanna go ice skating?” 

Sam’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! We’re going  _ ice skating _ ! Um, but- I’ve never actually ice skated before? I dunno how.” 

“That’s alright; you’ll pick it up,” Michael said confidently. He reached towards Sam’s forehead, but his hand paused. “Can I move you?” 

Sam blinked. “Do what now?” 

“Zap you to a new spot,” Michael clarified, “Insta-change your location.” 

“Insta-change my location?” Sam asked, giggling, “You mean teleport, maybe? Sure, you can ‘insta-change’ my location.” 

Michael touched Sam’s forehead, and the whole world spun out of control for a moment that was so short Sam could barely understand it. Sam staggered as his stomach tied itself in knots. He grabbed Michael’s shoulders for support and just breathed for a while. 

“Are you ok, Sammy?” Michael’s arms were gentle and he was warm. The air around them was frigid. 

“The world’s spinning,” Sam complained, pressing closer to Michael for warmth and support. 

“It can be hard on humans the first few times,” Michael explained, “You should feel better in a minute.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. ‘M just dizzy,” Sam mumbled, shivering, “It’s cold.” 

Michael snapped his fingers, and Sam felt a lot warmer. The feel of his clothes had changed. They were warmer. He looked down at himself; the colors and styles of his clothes were all completely different. 

“That’s cool,” Sam noted, “What can’t you do?” 

“Not much.” Michael sounded smug. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll find something you’re bad at. But let’s go skating.” 

The skates Michael gave him made Sam nervous. “Um, Michael? Why are there knives on the bottoms?” 

“So they slide right on the ice.” 

“Is this really safe?” Sam asked nervously. 

Michael shrugged. 

“Oh,” Sam said. He looked out at the ice worriedly. There was an awful lot of it, and it was slippery, and he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to balance on the skates, and what if the ice broke, or he was bad at this, or John found out, or John found out about Michael? This could be really, really bad. 

“I can feel you panicking from here,” Michael called. Somehow he’d gotten to the other side of the pond while Sam was freaking out.  _ He _ obviously knew what he was doing on the ice. Sam pouted enviously. 

“I’m not panicking!” Sam called back. 

“Suuure you’re not.” 

Sam yanked his skates on crossly and stood up, wobbling. He tried to take a step forward towards the ice and promptly fell over. He got back up, took another step forward, overbalanced, and dropped again. His fingers got trapped under his knee and crushed painfully, making him hiss as he jerked them free and cradled his bruised hand to his chest. 

He didn’t want to fall again. Unfortunately, the only way to not fall in ice skates was to crawl. It was humiliating, but Sam crawled onto the ice and tried to stand up there. He figured maybe it would be easier to stand in  _ ice _ skates on the ice. 

He was wrong. He fell immediately, his legs splaying before he could even try to take a step as he fell all over the place. Sam lay on the ground, tears flooding his eyes. This was  _ impossible. _ He was never going to learn to ice skate. And it was so pretty and looked like so much fun when Michael did it. 

Michael skated over gracefully and stopped neatly next to Sam. “Here, take my hand.” 

Sam stared at him balefully. “It’s impossible. I can’t skate. It’s never gonna work.” 

Michael waited, and after a moment Sam took his hand. Michael pulled Sam to his feet, magically made his bruises vanish, and took his other hand. 

“I’m gonna skate backwards, ok? All you have to do is hold on.” 

Sam nodded hesitantly. At first he was scared he’d fall over again, but once he got the hang of it ice skating was easy. He wasn’t going to be trying any tricks any time soon and stopping was challenging, but he could skate without falling over. 

Michael was shamelessly showing off; Sam figured he was either a professional figure skater or using magic. 

“Using magic is cheating,” Sam told him after he did some sort of spinning jump thing that really didn’t look possible naturally. 

“You’re just saying that cuz you don’t have any yet,” Michael argued, “It’s not cheating.” 

There was something in that statement that didn’t add up. “I don’t have any  _ yet _ ?” 

“Mmm,” Michael hummed. 

Sam tilted his skates to stop and just managed to stay on his feet. “What d’you mean yet?” he demanded. 

Michael’s momentum mysteriously vanished to allow him to stop gracefully with no apparent effort. “You’re a hunter, Sam; you’re better off not knowing.” 

“No,” Sam insisted, “The secrecy stuff is fine when we’re talking about you. You have a right to your own privacy. But this is about me. If you know something about me that I don’t, then you have to tell me. It’s bad enough without worrying about some vague unknown thing that might happen to me at some point. Michael, please.” 

Michael’s face made Sam nervous. There was this look in his eyes like he was weighing not just Sam’s words, but everything Sam was to decide how to answer. “No.” 

“No?” Sam spluttered, “What do you mean no? You can’t just drop that I’m some sort of freak and expect me to deal!”

“Yes, I can, actually,” Michael commented, inspecting his fingernails. 

“You- you asshole!” 

Michael snapped his fingers and Sam appeared back in his motel room by himself. 

“Michael!” Sam yelled furiously. 

Michael didn’t show. Of course he didn’t.

Sam directed his anger at his pillow since it was the only thing there, and soon it was all lumps instead of half lumps. Sam sat back, then, anger abated and misery taking its place. He traced the lines he’d cut into his wrist. “I always knew I was a freak.” 


End file.
